


now that i found you

by Philosoferre



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Character Study, Light Angst, M/M, Soft Steve, Starbucks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 12:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20389546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosoferre/pseuds/Philosoferre
Summary: The first time Steve really sees Bucky - not Bucky from the forties, not the Winter Soldier - they’re standing in line at a crowded Starbucks after a quick afternoon mission.





	now that i found you

**Author's Note:**

> this was a quick character study i wrote for my creative writing class, so i figured i'd put it on ao3 too. i still can't believe i got away with writing fanfiction lmao. the title comes from the iconic song by our queen carly rae jepsen.

The first time Steve really sees Bucky - not Bucky from the forties, not the Winter Soldier - they’re standing in line at a crowded Starbucks after a quick afternoon mission. Bucky hadn’t talked to him the whole time, just carried out his task in grave silence and the kind of scary precision that comes with wielding a knife, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to break into conversation now, either. He’s got his shoulders hunched, hands curled into fists, hair falling over his face. The Winter Soldier was an obedient weapon, and the way Bucky carries himself, after decades of being handled like that, isn’t going to change so suddenly. 

“Do you know what you’re going to get?” Steve asks, more out of decency than anything else. 

Bucky’s metal fingers twitch and he lifts his head in a barely-there nod of acknowledgement. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if he’s paying attention or not, but Steve knows he’s constantly alert, on edge. He has a permanent blank stare, and it breaks Steve’s heart.

“Dunno,” Bucky mumbles. He’s always rough when he speaks, a little sad, like everything he says is tinted with seventy years of pain he’s never voiced before. “Nothing, probably.”

Steve hums. He glances over, and once he’s sure Bucky’s not hiding some sort of panic attack, he tentatively reaches a hand out and laces their fingers together. He can’t help but smile when Bucky squeezes his hand, cold metal against the warmth of his own skin.

“Come on, Buck, you have to get  _ something _ . It’s the twenty-first century. Try something fun, like--like a refresher.”

Bucky snorts, but he’s smiling all the same. Steve likes his smile; the real one, anyway, not the fake one he puts on around the others. Steve likes when his smile gets a little too wide, looks a little funny, like he hasn’t had much practice, when it shows enough of his teeth to make him seem like the predator Hydra forced him to be. Steve likes the way the corner of his eyes crinkle, and the way their stony grey shines with a blue that makes him think of summer nights by the docks and ice cream at the fair. And most of all, Steve likes the way he kisses. Bucky kisses like he’s pouring his heart onto Steve’s lips, baring every inch of his soul, showing Steve the scars he tries to keep hidden. His kisses are soft and gentle, his hands barely touching Steve’s face, as if he’s afraid of hurting him. Sometimes, Bucky kisses like he’s opening his eyes for the first time, and he can’t quite comprehend how much good exists in the world. Bucky kisses like the man Hydra made him: broken, searching, delicate. 

“Have I told you about tomorrow?” Steve asks. He squeezes Bucky’s hand again, and offers a smile when Bucky whips his head around to glance at him.

Bucky doesn’t say anything. Steve’s gotten used to it, so he fills the silence instead. “The fair’s opening, so I thought maybe-”

“Steve,” Bucky says, gritting his teeth. It comes out more like a growl. He sighs and rubs his flesh hand across his face; his metal one is still gripping Steve’s hand, growing tighter and tighter by the second. “I’m--I’m not your Bucky, okay? I’ve changed, I’m not who you remember me as. Stop trying to get me to be him.”

“I’m not,” Steve protests, though at this point it’s too instinctive to mean anything. Some part of him will just always be ready to fight with Bucky, to prove him wrong. Steve blinks once, wrestles his hand out of Bucky’s bone-crushing grip, and shakes his head. “Buck, I’m not.”

Bucky doesn’t have anything to say to that either, not that Steve was expecting something different. The silence between them is excruciating, and as the minutes drag on, Steve can’t help but feel like he said the wrong thing. He knows logically that he has to let Bucky heal on his own, but he has a hard time believing that’s the right thing to do. Bucky’s as stubborn as he is, and he’d never admit if he needed help. If he felt lost and confused and shattered. Bucky’s been through some terrible things,  _ done _ some terrible things, and Steve thinks the least he can do is give him a shoulder to cry on, no matter how many times Bucky pretends he doesn’t need it.

Steve doesn’t register it’s their turn to order until Bucky nudges him with his metal arm, and he absentmindedly says, “You order first.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, shrugging. He turns to the barista, glances at the menu, and then - as he tugs Steve’s hand in his own - mumbles out, “I’ll have a latte. Grande.”

Steve squeezes his hand a third time, and it’d be a crime to say Bucky’s gloriously  _ Bucky _ smile doesn’t steal all the light from the room.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr @mattmuwudock - come say hi!


End file.
